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Mark finally finds his way to the pub after being dazed and confused from a long patrol. He sits down and orders a Soco on the rocks.

Hey! What do ya think you are doin' ? Stop staring at me like that! This is no time ta make me mad!

He screams looking in a direction where no one else is, the bartender has a confused look on his face. Mark takes the last sip of his drink and passes out in his chair.

Sam entered the pub as discreetly as he could. Of course, he is fighting for the same thing as all of the brave men here, but he knew that man with little Libertonian look and especially without Bretonian accent will be very suspicious here. Original plan was to drink a few beers and go back to ship. He ordered the beer with his arm upon head same way as he saw at other tables. After a few moments later the bartender put the beer on the table.

The original plan was ok, but not for Sam. His visits of bars always ended in same way after Sara died in that damned BMM mining ship. He first met her in a bar like this and memories from this beatiful evening came back very fast. Lately he can´t remember how he ordered the next maybe ten or fifteen beers, and also harder drinks.

He woke up next day in his ship with big hammer in his head. He can´t remember...nothing from previous evening. What he said and to who, what he did and finally how he got back to his ships. He was alive and not injured what was good signs because meant that he not said or made something bad to anybody. But it was presumable that second visit will not be much discreet as he planned yesterday.

[color=#999900]A young man saunters into the pub, a large brown glass bottle cradled in one arm. Dodging past a departing throng of thoroughly pissed individuals, he pauses briefly at the bar next to a older, auburn haired woman and her escort, placing a plastic card in the hand of the former with a grin and a wink, and patting the back of the latter and making a brief verbal exchange before turning eye to the tables. Spotting his hosts, Corey and Miller, he cocks a brow and hoists the bottle into view when he catches the attention of one of the men, grabbing a glass from the bar before making his way over.

"Gantlemen," he begins as he arrives at their table, placing the unmarked bottle on the table between the two and taking a seat.

"You 'ave my gratitude for the invitation. I'd love t'be stayin' an' gettin' pissed, but I've t'meet wit' an important individual on Freeport 1. So, it's with regret that I only 'ave time to share one drink wit' you fine gentlemen, but in 'ope that you'll forgive this slight, I bring a gift."

He picks up the bottle, bites the cork, pulls it clear and spits it over his right shoulder as he pours himself a double, "Its me gran da's own recipe. Pure pot, sixty five thirty five, an' aged eight years in a real wooden cask."

He lifts the glass in toast. "To the day when every last bastard son of Crete 'as met 'is just end. May they all die slow; wit' our 'ands at their throats." he proclaims before draining the glass and placing it on the table upside down.

A man walked into the bar, and sat to an empty table. A few of the older man in the bar starred at the new guy.Finally one of them stepped to him and whispered..

"i know you, i know who you are, but i thought you were dead!"

The Stranger looked back surprised..

"Oh realy? Even i don't know who i am... The last thing what i remember that i was in a battle against... i dont remember who... maybe the Armed Forces.. or...*sigh* i'm not sure.. everyone was yelling, and shouting 'get to the lifepods!' than a huge explosion came.. and i wake up in the medbay of Thames Outpost.

The first few days were really hard, every inch of my body hurt, a few bones were broke, but the Doctors there patched me up relatively fast.

A week after a girl came into my room, gave me some papers, money and said that a ship is waiting for me in the docks, and i should get out of here as fast as i can. What the hell? - but i had that feeling that i knew her, and i need to trust her. So i sneaked out, and there she was.. and old SMv-612-C Class mining ship. I took the old lady, and headed to the nearest Freeport.

In the last 3 years i was.. well.. mining, trying to get enough money to go into retirement.."

In the end the whole bar was listening to the stranger. From the distance one of them whispered

"you are Alastar O'Connell.. The ship you were on, was the flagship of the Union, You spent almost youre entire life to fight for the freedom of Dublin.."


"no no no,!"

yelled Alastar,

"this cant be! me?... oh my head, it hurts.. to remember.. these images.."










He walks out of the bar, to his ship, and says quietly..

"something needs to be done.. Dublin needs to be purged... but first.. "

-he looks at the old Scraper-

"i need guns.."

James studied their guest carefully for the first time. If anything, the man knew something about whiskey. That's about all he could figure out for sure.

"One drink is enough sometimes. Quite the show you had back there, waltzing everywhere without clear identification. You are lucky that I've learned in the past two decades to not be all that twitchy"

Corey took the bottle and poured himself a good half glass of liquid, "I don't care much of how they die, it's the fact and result I'm living to see". He then repeated after their guest, draining the glass and placing it next to the first one on table. Whiskey was something that he got used to and forgot how to enjoy again on strange cycles. As the fire burned down his throat, he wasn't sure at what point he was now.

"Why do I have a feeling you are not here for the first time... Eamon, that was the name right?"

The doors to the pub swing open as a man walked through. He stops and takes a look around for a nice and dark spot. "It looks like there as been a fight in here" the man mumbles to himself. A smile comes to his face.
The older man finds his way around the knocked down chairs and debris. He come to the spot and sits down.
Randy looks up at the barkeep "whiskey and make it fast" in a heavy voice. The barkeep does what he is told in fear of what could come next. The man looks a a group of people across the room. These men are a rough looking lot, the kind you see picking fight on the street corner. One of the guys from the group keeps looking over his shoulder. Turns a starts to laugh. Looks again and gets up. He walks over to the old man and sits next to him.
Randy looks at him and puts his drink on the bar. "What" he speaks firmly. "What do you want?"
"I want to know why you are in my pub!?" The rough looking guy picks up Randy drink and downs the hole glass of whiskey. SLAM!! The glass hits the bar.
The barkeep is no where to be seen. The rest of the group get up to make there way to the old man. Randy slams the rough looking guy to the bar and hits him in the back of the head. He goes limp. The rest of the group rushes tords Randy. It looks like a well reherst dance for 10 seconds or so. The rest of the men drop to the ground limp as well.
Randy yell out "Barkeep another! And make it snappy."

The black furred rabbit steps into the bar and looks around greeting his fellow mollys as he walks towards the bar and sits, ordering a large shot of whisky, his paw reaching shakingly for the glass as his nerves begin to calm from the long day of near death events, his ears hanging behind his head and his hair russtled from his helmet, he slams his drink and bangs it on the bar asking for another.

"Looooooow lie the fieeeeeeeelds of Athenryyyyy where ooooonce I waa..

Hey! Barkeep! A round or ten for the house! And a pint of the black stuff for me if ya don't mind"

::Cathbad tosses a credit chip on the counter::

"Evenin' Rendy, Evenin' Erin! Glad I could finally make it out here and hook up with you righteous bastards! Been feeling out this Werewolf... a damn sight better in a fight than the Camara tub I had been pushing around. Been making a nice penny off the poor Bretonian slobs they've had patrolling the jump gate. Poor suckers don't know what they're in for when they come after me.

I really wish I could put a couple torps into that battleship they've got there, the Essex. That thing bugs me to no end. Like to light that fookin thing up an put on a nice fireworks show for Arranmore.

Till then tho, I'm plannin on makin some runs into the Bret soft spots, see if I can nail a freighter or two and bring some goodies back here. We need H fuel right? Any other groceries I could pick up on the way that we need? Anybody wanna come with? One man is fine for a quick in-n-out jobbie, but the more the merrier they say.

Anyway where was I. Oh yeah.

Where ooooonce I watched the smaaaaaal free birds flyyyyyyyy! Our looooove was on the wing, we had dreams and soooooongs to sing...."